


Explain It Like I'm Tree

by Hecallsmehischild



Series: The Forest For The Trees [2]
Category: Invader Zim, Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Slice of Life, Trust Issues, crossovers will occur on occasion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23863297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecallsmehischild/pseuds/Hecallsmehischild
Summary: A collection of Mystery Skulls Animated oneshots, loosely related, post-reconciliation. The gang has scraped together enough to mortgage a small house with an ancient tree in the backyard. What do they do with their days? Their holidays? What cases do they take, and which ones do they turn down no matter how high the asking price? How come they so much time in the back yard by the tree? Who is Mothman? A glimpse into their little slice of life, one mini-story at a time.
Series: The Forest For The Trees [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719643
Comments: 55
Kudos: 52





	1. Dynamics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I absolutely just need a place to put oneshots as they come to mind without necessarily creating a whole new oneshot fic each time. Also, "Rest, Nestling" is the precursor to this set of oneshots, though not required reading to understand these ones. Advance warning, I will probably loop in child!Dib from Invader Zim from time to time, but I'll try to present him in such a way that you don't have to be familiar with that fandom to enjoy. I just think the crossover works and is neat. For now, this is just a set-up chapter to cover where the group dynamics are.

"So… for sure, you've seen her, right, Mystery?"

Vivi stared out the window, her nose and hands smushed against the glass. The backyard and acreage of the property was the only real sweet part of the deal they'd gotten on this place. Sure, the house looked pretty swell at first glance, but it came with a lot of emphasis on "as is" that made her more nervous than it would have if Arthur was a handyman as well as a mechanic, which he was not. Still, there was a good deal of space around the house, and in the backyard grew a very old tree that Arthur swore up and down was alive. Well, more alive than one would normally consider a tree to be. Not that trees weren't alive, it's just that this one—

"Yes, I've seen her arm once. It was larger than all of us combined. She moved Arthur like a pup." Mystery stood at an angle to the window, where he could see but not be seen by what was outside. "She is most certainly a nymph of some sort. Likely a hamadryad."

Vivi kept her eyes glued to the tree. The light was dying, but full dark was still half an hour off. All she saw was what she'd seen most evenings; Arthur sitting with his back against the trunk. His mouth wasn't moving this time, he just leaned against the trunk with his eyes closed. Asleep, maybe? A single leaf lay in his lap.

"How come she doesn't show herself? It's been a month and I haven't seen her even once." Vivi grumped. "And why's Arthur monopolizing her? I went in on this house, too, so when is he gonna let me talk to the giant tree lady?"

Nobody answered her. She was whining and she knew it, but it was so unfair. Arthur had a supernatural buddy nobody had known about? It was like finding out he'd grown a second head, or opened a third eye, or… or that he'd been possessed, that her dog was really a powerful kitsune in disguise, and that her boyfriend had died and come back as a pissed off ghost. Finding out she had a boyfriend at all. She fogged up the pane with her sigh, then pulled away, leaving clear nose and handprints behind, and turned face-first into the broad chest of a funeral suit.

Speak of the devil.

Lewis hovered a few inches off the ground just behind her, also inspecting the view through the window.

"What about you? Can you see her?" She folded her arms, tilting her head back. Hopefully she came across more defiant than petulant.

The soft glowing irises slid down to meet her stare, then refocused back on the tree. His skull, floating about three inches over the empty neck of the funeral suit, shook itself.

"So that would be no."

Lewis paused, lifted one hand palm down, and swiveled it back and forth.

"Sort-of-maybe?" Vivi threw up her hands. "Specifics, would ya?"

Lewis drifted backward, putting a little space between them, and folded his hands behind his back. He ducked his head.

Mystery spoke up. "Might I assume, Lewis, that you can see a sort of dim green-gold glow that moves about the trunk, like a firefly trapped inside?"

Lewis nodded.

"I see that as well, but I don't think either of us class that as the same sort of 'seeing' that Vivi is asking about." Mystery looked at Vivi. "You want to know if either of us has spotted a giant tree-woman lumbering about. I think it's safe to say the answer to that is no."

Lewis nodded twice.

Vivi slipped a little notepad out of her pocket and a pen out from behind her ear. "Tree-lady looks like little firefly to ghosts and kitsunes," she mumbled, jotting it down. "Not useful info yet, but who knows what will and won't be." She tucked the notepad away and slid the pen behind her ear. "Well. It's getting dark. I'm gonna make sure he remembers that being inside when it's cold is a thing people do. I don't think Lady Tree over there will remind him."

She headed down the hall, aiming for the sliding glass door that opened onto the back deck. Behind, she heard Mystery murmuring to Lewis, saying words she didn't really want to hear.

* * *

"Give it time."

Lewis ducked his head. He didn't want to hear it. She didn't really see him anymore. Any look from her was like a warning shot or a lance through the chest. Old mannerisms had freshly sharpened edges in his presence. Was he imagining things, or did the back of that notepad have an exorcism script jotted on it?

Time might fix the hostility and it might not. Mystery meant well, but Lewis didn't want to hear his merely hopeful advice. If wishes were fishes… he waved a hand, opting out of further conversation, and drifted off to the office.

There were bills to pay. Bills from the hospital, utility bills, insurance bills, and now a mortgage. Arthur got steady pay from working at Kingsmen Mechanics and there were some promising leads on patenting his prosthetic technology. Vivi had a part-time job at Tome Tomb and stayed with her grandmother for a couple days a week, on the care-taker's days off. Pay from their investigation jobs varied, was unreliable, and more often than not it all went back into equipment or travel costs. Still, that was something they had agreed on; the Mystery Skulls were going to continue. So, it was Lewis' job to run the blog and get them interest. Attention. Gigs.

That used to be Vivi's job. She'd started the group, she led it, so she handled their public face online. But that was when Lewis had been alive. When he had a job as sous chef and waiter at his parents' restaurant. His skull drew in closer to the suit. He couldn't go back there like this. He couldn't go anywhere public like this, but especially not back there.

So. He entered the office, with its cluttered desk and wall-to-wall bookshelves groaning with crusty old tomes. The corkboard had a photo of their tree at the center, with various sticky notes surrounding it. The whiteboard had several sketchy designs of leafy women, or huge monster trees with legs. Someone had left _**Nice try, Vivi**_ written in the middle.

Lewis leaned against the wall opposite the group laptop, summoning a Deadbeat. One of the tiny, pink spirits poked its head out from his hollow collar, chirping up at him. He nodded at the laptop, and it darted over, patting the mouse to wake the computer and bringing up the group blog. The Deadbeat called up a new post, then turned back to Lewis, blinking little golden eyes.

Lewis floated his skull back to the door, peeking out. Sounded like Vivi was in the kitchen. Arthur wasn't in sight. Returning his skull to the suit, he crossed his arms and stared at the ceiling. Nudged the door shut with his foot. Considered how to start. Vivi usually kept it light-hearted. Should he mimic that?

"Hey gang!" He paused, then shook his head. That wasn't right. "Hey-ho, fellow ghost hunters!" He scowled. "Howdy…. No." He pinched the bone bridge between his eyesockets.

With just those nine words, the lamp light had dimmed and acquired a reddish tinge while the desk groaned like a man being crushed, though nothing had shifted on it.

Everything was way too complicated, post mortem.

* * *

Mystery took himself out to the front of the house. Then around to the side. Circled around back. Up the other side. Back to the front. They'd only had this place for a month, so the track wasn't too noticeable, but he could see the grass thinning from where he'd placed his paws. It crossed his mind that perhaps he should pace a less direct path, make a pleasant, meandering track around the house. He dismissed this. If he was going to worry a path onto the grounds, it would be a simple track he could follow in his sleep.

Each time he passed around back, he glanced sideways without turning his head. Arthur hadn't gone inside, yet.

He shouldn't worry. Arthur knew this tree, and the tree seemed to have some attachment back, but nymphs were not to be trifled with. Even the silliest, giggling naiad might turn on you with a flash of silvery teeth should you slight her the right way.

Though, how many had he seen, lately? They all hid themselves. Or had most faded away?

His step slowed. He shouldn't think this way. There were plenty of others to be found, it's just… they had to be more cautious. This was no longer their world, and those that had once been prey was no longer so weak and defenseless.

_Not your world anymore._

He rounded the corner to the side of the house and thumped his rump down, a little whine sticking in his throat. It wasn't his world in any sense of the word. Even his homeland was on the other side of the planet, and the creatures of legend around him were foreign and difficult to understand. And here he was, watching over a unit of humans. They who had once been prey and were now family. Except, these had already been preyed on, and he hadn't stopped it.

He stretched out his forelegs and lay his muzzle between them, allowing the whine to exit through his nose. Now he had the monumental task of piecing what was left of them back together. They had made a start, but their connections were still fragile as a new-spun spider's web.

The spectacles weighed heavily on his snout and his eyes ached. "You want me to see what you see?" he muttered into thin air. "Wonderful. I see it, but seeing does nothing. What am I meant to do about these injured kits?"

A dragonfly flitted past his nose. An ant clicked industriously nearby, scouting for food.

Abruptly, a pair of hands seized him. "There you are," Vivi declared. A moment later he was cradled in warm arms. "Thought you might be out here, moping. You mope too much. Come on, there's leftovers in the fridge from yesterday. Enough for you and me. Artie said he already ate. His loss."

Mystery's ears perked at that, his stomach grumbling, concerns shunted to the back of his mind. If Arthur was passing up his portion, Mystery was more than happy to take care of it for him.

* * *

Arthur didn't feel like coming inside yet. It wasn't as cold as Vivi yelled it was. Sure, there was a little chill, but it was more refreshing than biting. Besides, it was peaceful out here. Restful.

He hadn't seen her since the day after the tree trimmers removed the rotting branches, but he knew she was there. Yettle. The tree who had nursed him back to life twice. There hadn't been much to tell her today, so he'd just sat out there with her, watching the sky darken through her branches. There was a leaf in his lap again. One always seemed to make its way to his lap, or on top of his head.

He wondered if he'd ever see her again. Only three times in his life had she made an appearance to him, and each time had been some dire moment. It was probably a very human thing to want to see her again, in the sort of way where he could hear her as clearly as she always heard him. To give her a hug. To interact with her on his terms. But humans had not done well by her, so he wouldn't ask. Instead, he would try to learn stillness and simple being. Stopping his frenetic pace for a bit of each day to appreciate each breath. The playful breeze. The smell of cut grass. If he kept at it long enough, maybe he could learn to interact with Yettle on her terms. Right now, he'd settle for knowing what those terms even were.

He couldn't ask Vivi to hold off forever, though, and Vivi would want it on her terms. Even if Yettle chose not to respond, Vivi would be out here with probes and questions and cameras and a tent. He'd have to navigate that eventually, and hope they didn't offend Yettle. Could you offend a tree? Offense seemed more like a human thing, too, come to think of it. There were certain spirits and deities who got very offended, he was pretty sure there were stories about that. But a tree?

A question to file away for later, he decided.

A thought rose to the forefront. It came occasionally, and it always brought a thin, tired smile with it. "Lewis is back," he said under his breath. How many months spent searching? How many sleepless nights driving the van around? All of it worthwhile. Sure there had been a few bumps—his breath hitched and he hurried past those memories—but that was all over. They were together, just like before, and even better now that they had a house to call their own.

Everything was going to work out great.


	2. Checkup

Mystery sat in the passenger seat of the van, sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye at the driver. As far as he could tell, Arthur had been honest about their destination when he'd asked Mystery to come with him. Nothing about this situation suggested he was being taken to the vet, but Vivi had pulled many creative contrivances to get him there before. You never really knew for sure where you were headed until you were there, or at least, that was Mystery's philosophy after his third trip, "Totally just to the park for a walk."

He could hear Arthur's heartbeat, slightly erratic in his chest. His breathing came and went in an unnaturally steady pattern that suggested all concentration not allocated to driving was focused on keeping his airflow stable.

Soon enough, they pulled into the parking lot of Tempo First Medical Center, just as Arthur said they would. Mystery huffed a sigh of relief. No vet today. Arthur shifted into park, pulled the emergency brake, and removed the key. The putter of the engine died out, taking with it Arthur's breathing and mobility. His hand, still clutching the key, hovered just in front of the ignition. Wavering.

_Ah. Of course. This is why._

Mystery rose to his paws and crossed to the center seat, gently nosing Arthur's arm.

Arthur flinched, his hand jerking back. The keys flew somewhere in the back. His pupils were like pinpricks, and his breathing more closely matched the heart rate Mystery could hear thundering away. His right arm curled around to grip his prosthetic and he dropped his forehead to the top of the steering wheel, eyes shut tight.

Mystery's ears and tail lowered. He sat next to Arthur, leaning his weight into the man's side. He stayed silent, waiting as Arthur slowly worked his way through the panic. After precisely seven minutes and an acceptable reduction in heartrate, he cleared his throat. "Seems I'm not the only one around here who hates going to the vet. I don't suppose you could shift Vivi on this subject for me?"

A short laugh broke from Arthur, taking some of his tension with it. Muscles loosened. Arthur released the grip on his prosthetic to place his hand on Mystery's head, the fingers massaging the spot just below his skull that set his tail wagging every time. "Sorry, buddy. I've gotta go, and…" he caught on the sentence for a moment, then picked it up again, "... and so do you. But it's not your turn today."

"So I've gathered." Mystery inclined his head toward the door. "Shall we?"

Arthur nodded, fumbling with the handle. Mystery leaped into the back while Arthur exited.

All kinds of scents in the clutter back there. Musty books. Bits of wood and animal bone. The winter-ice scent of the baseball bat he never let touch him. The smell of sweat and skin cells and saliva on the thin pad and blanket. Crushed Monster cans, empty coffee cups, and greasy tools. In the middle of it all, a set of keys with a little plastic crown-wearing wrench attached. Mystery took this between his teeth and leaped back into the front seat, then out the driver's door.

Arthur was waiting for him, pale, but standing. "Thanks, buddy." He stooped to retrieve the keys, then clipped the end of a long, red leash onto Mystery's collar. "And thanks for coming."

Outside the privacy of the van, Mystery merely woofed in response.

Arthur took the end of the leash in his right hand, walking up to the front doors. They parted automatically and Arthur paused there for a moment. When Mystery pressed up against his leg, he wobbled his way in.

"Arthur Kingsmen," he said at the check-in window. "Here for… ch-check up. Doctor Noble."

Mystery couldn't see the receptionist, but her voice sounded kindly, even as she said, "Well, Mr. Kingsmen, she'll be ready to see you shortly, but the dog… unless it's a service animal?"

Arthur's knuckles tightened. "M-ma'am… last time I needed… sedation. To do this. I… am trying a different option. He's very well behaved. Please. Ihavealetter. Mytherapistshouldhavefaxedityesterday."

Mystery pressed against Arthur's leg again, setting one paw on top of his foot and pressing down. Arthur took a deep breath, repeating the last two sentences. "I have a letter. My therapist should have faxed it yesterday."

A chair creaking. Drawers opening and closing. Papers shuffling around. A head of short, hazel hair and keen eyes popped over the ledge, inspecting him. Mystery regarded her solemnly. No tail wag, no bark.

_I am a picture of dignified calm._

"It's all in order, Mr. Kingsmen. I apologize, it's just a bit of a deviation from standard procedure. But your file has the letter, as well as a note from Dr. Noble. Please, have a seat."

Arthur walked stiffly to the farthest corner he could find and sat, his back rigid. Mystery followed, never more than a foot away.

"Arthur Kingsmen?"

He jolted to his feet, nearly dropping the leash. "Yes. Me. Here." He walked in after the nurse who'd called his name. Mystery didn't like the syrupy smile she wore, or the way she clicked her tongue at them, or the way she raised her eyebrows rather pointedly in Mystery's direction. Still, he controlled the urge to bristle, raising his head a little higher as he padded beside Arthur.

Weight. Height. Urine test, for which Mystery was required to stay outside with the syrupy nurse. Apparently there had been issues with some patients who attempted to cover up substance abuse by substituting samples from their pets. Arthur accepted this with a nod, spent exactly ninety-seven seconds in the bathroom, then came out to trade the sample for the end of the leash.

He took his place in the exam room. The nurse alternated between vapid questions and a stream of chatter as she took his blood pressure. Checked ears. Checked eyes. Stethoscope over the heart. Over the lungs. He offered one-word responses, his eyes fixed on the wall across from him. Her lips pursed as she jotted down notes.

"The doctor will be in shortly," she said. "You'll need to remove your upper clothing and the prosthetic. She'll knock before she comes in."

Arthur nodded at her back. The door shut behind her. Mystery finally released as quiet a growl as he could. One corner of Arthur's mouth turned up. "Yeah. I know. Just a script-follower, though. No real harm."

He peeled off the vest and set it in the stationary chair in the corner. He gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head, dropping it on top of the vest. Then he sat at the foot of the exam table and began to remove his prosthetic.

The prosthetic couldn't hold very much weight by itself, as Arthur had explained to them in the design process, and Arthur was determined to have something as close to a functional left arm as he could design. The challenge had been to distribute the weight of whatever that arm was holding to the rest of his body, not allowing it to strain the connector. To this end, he'd developed a harness that connected to the prosthetic. At six points, mesh cords wrapped in cloth attached to the connector end of the prosthetic. These cords branched out into a harness that cradled his upper torso like a spiderweb. Each branch of the cord had a turnbuckle that he could use to adjust the tension. The mass passed around him from behind, fit over his right arm like a vest, and curled around front to attach back at his left side, where he could manage the hooks that held it in place with his right hand.

His breathing eased as he focused on each step of this task, carefully loosening six main turnbuckles, unhooking each of the attachments, unwinding the harness from his front and shrugging his right arm through the hole. That done, he squeezed the two buttons that would release the main connection, tilting forward so that the prosthetic fell into his lap and not on the floor.

Mystery focused on the prosthetic. Truly a work of craftsmanship. Arthur claimed it wasn't nearly all he wanted it to be, but Mystery remembered a time when many would have traded memory fragments, parts of their personality, or whole souls for a work of lesser quality, or even the mirage of wholeness. Anything that would bring them closer to physical completion was worth, so they believed, the internal fragmentation.

_Fools._

Arthur rolled the harness around the prosthetic and hopped off the table, nesting it on top of his clothes. The returned to the exam table, perching at the midpoint this time. He patted the foot of the table, glancing at Mystery. "Would you…?"

He didn't need to ask twice. Mystery bunched up his hindquarters and leaped onto the table, seating himself by Arthur just as the promised knock sounded at the door.

"Come in."

Doctor Noble poked her head in, rich auburn hair tumbling around her shoulders. "Hello, there."

Arthur nodded at her, but kept a grip on the end of the leash. Mystery lifted his ears and allowed a tail wag. Doctor Noble was a brusque, warm woman who had turned a blind eye to Mystery's vigil throughout Arthur's first stay in the medical center. Sometimes she would even drop a biscuit on the floor on her way out of the room.

She entered the room, snagging the rolling chair with a foot and plopping into it as it came close to the table. "Nurse Candace was kind enough to remind me of our no-dogs policy when she handed me your chart. I reminded her that I haven't yet reached a decision about retaining her."

Mystery's tail thumped twice. Arthur's lips twitched a little.

She flipped through the pages a bit, then set the chart aside and stood. "Alright, let me see." She washed her hands, gloved up, and came up to Arthur's left side. Mystery leaned forward, craning his neck to see past Arthur's torso. To watch her. "You following all the steps I told you? Cleaning this?"

Arthur flinched as her fingers made contact with his skin. "Yes." His eyes were fixed forward again. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

Mystery butted him from the side, pushing him to sit further back on the table, then draped himself across Arthur's lap. The hammering pulse he could feel through Arthur's legs slowed. Arthur's hand found the spot just below Mystery's skull again. "Yes, Doctor Noble. It's part of the morning routine."

From his new perch, Mystery could look up at Arthur's left side. The first surgery had sewn and bandaged the remaining stump of Arthur's arm. The next had removed what was left up to the shoulder socket, to make a full prosthetic easier to anchor in. There was a connector port, slightly larger than the bone that should be there, sticking out from the flesh. Scars traced outward from it, all along his shoulder and a little down his side. The third surgery had been unusual. Installing an experimental piece of technology was not something most surgeons leaped into. Mystery wondered, briefly, how many waivers Arthur had had to sign to get them to agree to it.

"Healing well," she commented, still probing. "Does that hurt?"

"No."

"Can you feel it?"

"A little."

"Any swelling or discharge?"

"No. Swelling went down after the last visit."

"Good to hear." Still, she swabbed the area with alcohol, then gestured to his other arm. "I'd like to take a blood sample while I'm here. Might as well get everything out of the way myself, if you don't mind. Might make Nurse Candace think a bit more about how she interacts with patients if she's not sure she's needed."

Mystery sneezed to cover a laugh.

Arthur extended his right arm. "Please."

As Doctor Noble swabbed his arm, she said, "So. Last time you were a bit unconscious, so I didn't get to ask. How's the pain?"

Arthur shrugged. Mystery dug his claws lightly into Arthur's thigh, producing a wince. "It's… there, sometimes. I take the meds most days."

"Most days?" she prodded, tying a rubber strap to his arm.

He glanced up. "Some days I forget."

She stared him down. "You really need to…" she stopped, then turned and prepped the needle. "Is there a reason you forget?"

"It… makes me really drowsy. It's hard to focus on my projects sometimes. Or my work."

Her shoulders loosened. "Mr. Kingsmen, if the medication is an issue, we can change it out. We can also talk about alternatives to medication, though some of them require extra visits. Make a fist a few times." She brought the needle over, searched his wrist, then poked it through his skin.

A sheepish look crossed his face. "Ah. And. You couldn't talk to me about those options last time when I was unconscious."

"Exactly. Which is why your dog is welcome here anytime you visit. This is the smoothest your checkups have gone. I commend you for find a way of dealing with your fears."

Mystery laid his head down on his forepaws, still draped across Arthur's lap, as the doctor and Arthur discussed medications and treatment options. Arthur's pulse never settled into a steady rhythm, but it didn't sound like a panicked bird trying to get through a closed window either. Doctor Noble set the blood samples aside, then swabbed and taped the puncture. Stripping off her gloves, she scrubbed her hands, then came over and scratched Mystery under the chin. "Take care, you two. I look forward to your next checkup. Maybe I'll have something for him next time. The lab will give you a call about your samples in the next couple of weeks, so keep an ear out for your phone."

"Will do. Thank you."

Doctor Noble scribbled a note for a new prescription and handed it to Arthur. Mystery hopped down as she left, and Arthur began the laborious process of re-attaching his prosthetic.

Arthur's right arm trembled a little, and he was having a difficult time lining up the connection. Mystery sighed. "Vivi may be a better option in the future. She would be able to assist you with this."

Arthur glanced down for a moment, then returned his attention to the prosthetic. He snapped it in place, sucking in a sharp breath, then wriggled around to get the harness in reach from its place behind his back. "I do it every day. I don't need help for this. It's just a little tricky at first." He pulled his arm through the hole, then began connecting the hooks. Then he tightened the turnbuckles one at a time, testing each until he was satisfied.

He pulled on his shirt, shrugged into his vest, and picked up the leash. He checked out at the side window, slid his credit card, and left. His pace picked up as he crossed the lobby and out the front doors. He couldn't open the van door fast enough, his key kept sliding off the metal. When he finally let them both in and shut the door, he slumped like someone had cut all the strings holding him up.

Mystery said nothing, but gently licked his right hand. And for a while, that was all there was; the sound of cars pulling past, Arthur gasping for air, and the near-silent stroke of a tongue across skin.

"You know why I wanted you to come?" Arthur finally asked, his voice reedy and thin. "I mean, they say all kinds of great things about the presence of animals and all that. But. I know for sure they're all telling the truth. I know it, because you were there the whole time. Anytime the nurses weren't looking, you were somewhere in the room. Mostly laying on my legs or my chest. I was pretty out of it, but I could feel the weight and warmth of you, y'know? And I heard you."

Mystery froze.

"I heard what you were saying." The right arm moved to circle around Mystery. "I couldn't say anything. I was too scattered to do much more than listen, then get out of there as soon as I could. But I heard you. And you were the one who tracked me down in the woods, afterward."

 _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't realize it soon enough. I was the fool this time. Too caught up in the wrong kind of sight to see what was happening._ Mystery's insides twisted. Arthur heard all that blubbering? Remembered it? Well _that_ wasn't utter mortification, no, not at all.

"I think… I think what happened was about as much your fault as it was mine." Arthur looked down at him. "And they tell me it wasn't my fault. I know… I know it was a little bit my fault, even if they won't hear that from me anymore. But, mostly not my fault. And I think that's about how it is for you, too."

Mystery whined, dropping his head.

Arthur dragged his fingers through Mystery's fur, stroking along the grain down his back. "M'not mad. And I don't want to be scared of you. It… it still happens sometimes. Me being scared of you. I was hoping you could help me with that. And with other… issues. Like the hospital. I know you're mostly with… under? Bonded to? Vivi… I don't know how that works, really. But do you think you could hang with me, sometimes?"

Mystery swallowed back the heaviness in his gut and nuzzled Arthur's arm. "It would be my pleasure. I do insist on some of the visits involving a ball moving at high velocity, though. Not everything can be hospital visits."

Arthur grinned weakly, sticking the key in the ignition. "Right. Not everything is hospital and vet visits."

Mystery nodded, sagely. "Precisely. Wait, what?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot tell you how relaxing it is to write this way. I forsee some conflicts arising, but most will be low-level. Some high-level intrigues may happen, but I'd try to keep them self-contained in one long chapter. Oh my word. I feel like I stretched out and kicked back. What even is this style? I need more of it. Also part of this was heavily inspired by a mini-comic by Mohegan567 on Tumblr.


	3. Blog Entry 1

**Back In Business!**

Well! Looks like it's been, what, six months since this blog updated? Hard to believe. Time flies and it's hard to keep all the balls in the air. We'll get better at juggling everything in time. Practice makes perfect, yeah?

Towards that end, Vivi turned the blog over to me. She feels it would be best for her to focus on the research and action side of things, and Arthur has enough on his plate without adding "social media guru" to his resume. So, for now, I'm your eye-in-the-sky, reporting on the cases and current problems they're tackling.

Who am I? Let's just call me Mod Skull for now. After all, what are the Mystery Skulls without a touch of mystery?

Previously, this blog has been a place for us to talk _at_ you. More of a portfolio of our exploits with a contact form, in case you have a tip or want to hire us. However, I think we could benefit from throwing the doors open to the readers. We'd love to network with other paranormal investigators* and talk shop about your experiences. Comparing notes could be beneficial all around.

To that end, we've added a comment section to each blog, as well as a chat function on the main page. Can't guarantee we'll answer every comment or talk with everyone who opens up a chat, but it'll be a good experiment.

So, why have we been gone for six months? In short, Arthur picked up a hot trail on a ghost. Usually Vivi's the one dragging everyone around, so if Arthur gets it in his head to go chasing something, everybody follows. It's like if you have a turtle, and one day that turtle walks up to you with a leash and says, "Pardon me, but I feel like running all of a sudden. Do you mind if we go for a jog?" How do you say no to that?

Turned out Arthur's instincts were right on the money. They found one hell of a ghost. The turtle ran a marathon and brought back the medal. This ghost they found has some serious problems, though, and while the group is trying to help it, nobody really knows what to do. For starters, the ghost can't communicate easily. When it speaks, it affects reality around it. It isn't pleasant. The ghost itself doesn't seem hostile, but you couldn't tell by the sort of horror show the room warps into after a minute of talking. It fades with time, but it's no picnic to be part of those talks. Anyone seen this kind of situation before?

We're working on it, but would love to hear from you. And we're back in business, so if you have a poltergeist that needs talking down or a sighting that you want verified, drop us a line and we'll discuss rates.

It's good to be back.

—Mod Skull

*No ghost-hunters, please. Our team believes exorcism is a last resort when dealing with ghosts and that's not up for debate.


	4. Changes

The changes are difficult and they come too quickly, nearly carried on each others' backs.

It was only a nesting cycle between the edges of the forest crying warning and the erection of a dwelling nearby. There are days when I groan, caressing the dead roots still touching mine. Sometimes I forget myself and try to speak to the others that remain nearby, but we are no longer connected by living roots. I could call over the breeze, but have not found the strength of will to do so. Perhaps I'm afraid that those nearby have chosen to sleep and will never answer me. It is a tempting thought, to live in mindless existence, rejecting awareness and conscious life.

Except, now, there is a pack that has claimed me. This involves many changes all at once, changes which pull me far from the thought of sleeping.

Sometimes birds and squirrels chose my branches. Sometimes foxes and voles hid among my roots. I never acted to protect or hinder any, and neither would I rebuff their search for a home or a hiding place. On rare occasions, a pack of some kind adopted me as a place of meeting, or an important territory marker. I watched their attempts to claim me as their own with amusement. The great lengths they went to assert that claim, no matter the species, was flattering, if inconsequential. I am myself and I am… was… of the forest, and belonged to no single pack no matter how pungently they marked me. They came. They went. They lived. They died. I remained.

It is no cause for amusement now. Among a mass of these creatures who can bring my entire family down, being claimed by a pack is like raising a small grove around me. Protective. They loan me strength and safety. For the first time, I am grateful that a pack that has asserted dominance, for I no longer have the collective strength of the forest supporting me.

But this is not like any pack I have ever seen. Indeed, not even those of us who once grew at the edges sent back tales of humans who lived like this. It seems to be a matriarchal pack of mixed species. The way Vivi carries herself and interacts with the others marks her as the leader. Arthur does not seem to have any sort of leadership role, but is highly valued for skills or knowledge that I do not understand. I cannot discern what occurs within the dwelling, but their interactions give no indication of mating or courtship between them.

The other two pack members concern me. One is the spirit of a human male named Lewis, who died. Arthur's stories about this are not easy to absorb, but he seems to have had some fault in this. It has to do with his missing arm and the corruption that was briefly there. I am still unclear how Lewis and Arthur returned to being pack together.

There are parts of the dwelling that I can see into, and if Vivi is in sight, Lewis is often nearby. He behaves much more like a creature in courtship with her, though she rebuffs all signals.

I do not see Lewis often. I have not observed him departing the dwelling, and I prefer it to remain this way. He is spirit and flame. Could I withstand an inferno? Likely, but I do not wish to suffer through that. Perhaps, with enough rest, I can recover strength enough to keep him at a set distance.

The final pack member is a creature of magic called Mystery, hiding in the guise of a common animal. I understand none of his motivations and that is most frightening. He is the greatest potential threat to my will. He knows what I am, perhaps how weak I am. What keeps him from exploiting that?

Then again, what keeps him subservient to Vivi? He rolls over and presents his belly to her on a regular basis. Even here, she is matriarch. Does she comprehend her position in this pack? She seems to accept it without full understanding.

Arthur told me that he has requested the others give me "some space" for "a while". I do not think any of them understand what those words mean.

Arthur's presence is not intrusive, he makes no demands on me. He talks, and I can tell from his voice that even his questions are not asked with any hope of being answered. It is soothing to have him nearby, speaking words with no expectation.

However, when he is not at the dwelling and Vivi is, then many questions are asked of me with great expectation. Vivi waves magical boxes and wands at me to determine things. What she determines seems to give her great excitement or disappointment. She takes care to keep these activities concealed from Arthur, but not from the others. And when _she_ is done, Mystery walks back and forth on the grass, pretending to perform normal animal activities, as if I can't tell he's watching me.

There is little I could do if Mystery chose to exert his will over mine. I would have to submit or sink into sleep to escape him forever. I am completely reliant on this pack for my protection, and I am unsure if I can trust half of them. Is it truly a passive claim on this land that protects me, or are they doing battle with other packs in a place I cannot see?

The "tree-care" humans must return to discern how my recovery is progressing. It is too soon to know whether removing diseased limbs from my body will save me, however, there is less rot and rancor in me. Arthur spoke to me, one day, about how he had to visit the people who removed his limb and how frightened he was. He said it had to be done, that it was important to keep him healthy, but how that didn't make it any easier.

His words make it possible for me to endure the thought of the tree-care humans returning, even if they were to take another limb from me. He said that is possible, but that "if it needs to be done, it needs to be done." I trust him. I will endure. But I hope there is no further need to remove limbs from either of us.

This pack is the reason I do not choose sleep. Perhaps Mystery is their guard, but he is not always watching. Perhaps Lewis is their guard, but a ghost has great weaknesses. Someone must watch, always. Someone must be aware. But that raises a difficult question.

These changes have been so large that they swallowed up a forest. There has never been something like this in all the memory of our family. Does a change this vast mean that I, also, must change? The balance between prey and predator is so altered that nothing I am capable of can restore it. If that is so, if that is how things are now, then might I… might I choose? There are creatures that still may hunt this pack, powerful though they are as a whole. Might I choose to warn the pack? Deprive a hunter of its prey? This pack stand between me and my own hunters, a thing which has never been needed before. How, then, can I remain inactive if I see their danger?

I turn from this question every time it rises in me. Every side of it is painful to consider. A wrongness that is not wrong, but that is the madness of things as they are. I must find the answer soon, though, because there are hunters that would consume them. I am sure of it. I have learned that there is a hunter for every creature in the world, even for other hunters. I must know the answer before it is needed.

"Hi, Yettle." The sun is low in the sky. Night draws near and Arthur has returned. He is down by my roots with… soil. Soil from some other place. He spreads it around my base. It is rich. Delightful. "Got this from the nursery the other day. They gave me a few tips. If I really get something wrong, you're going to have to let me know somehow, but unless you yell at me, I'll assume what I'm doing is okay."

This is something else that is new and strange. When, before this, have I ever been tended? Before the rot set into my body, I had no need of it. After the harsh care, I think I do not need more. At the same time, it is a comfort. An added kindness.

He settles into his usual spot, leaning up against my trunk, to tell me the inconsequentials of his day, things I couldn't understand if I listened for his whole life. I set the difficult question aside for now. There is time enough to listen to another stream of words as the air grows cool and the moon gleams ever brighter in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to my friend, Misty, for whose special day this chapter was written! She wanted to know Yettle's take on the current situation. Well. That was pretty easy once I got started, and lots of fun to write.


	5. Chat Log 1

Boredom was the reason Lewis saw the chat request the moment it came through.

Vivi was out at the bookstore and had Mystery with her. Arthur was at the shop. Chunks of chicken and vegetables were stewing in a spicy fajita marinade and wouldn't be ready to stir-fry for another couple of hours. Every room in the house was spotless.

Given that he needed neither sleep nor rest, Lewis didn't have nearly enough to do. Vivi had ward charms on her room so he couldn't clean that. That had hurt. He'd have stayed out if she just told him to.

She'd also put ward charms on Arthur's room, but they had come down pretty quickly. Lewis had taken this as a sign that Arthur welcomed his efforts and so kept Arthur's room clean and organized. Only in Arthur's absence, though. He didn't enter when Arthur shut the door for the night. Even if the light under the door—often on until early into the next morning—worried him.

But he'd done everything to the max for the day. Now Lewis leaned against the back wall of the office, signaling the Deadbeat ghostling to keep refreshing the web browser. They'd gotten a few spam bots trying to post, but those were quickly deleted. There'd been a few responses to his first post as Mod Skull.

" **Welcom back! exited to see ur new adventurs!"** Lewis winced, a list of corrections running through his head.

 **Hey, pretty sure my neighbor's dog is haunted. It drops glowing turds all over my Dad's lawn. Think you can bust it?** Lewis rolled his eyes.

 **Is your love life struggling? With this one trick, have her screaming** — _Deleted_.

 **Good to see a group taking paranormal research seriously. There aren't nearly enough like you. Interesting case with that ghost. Ghosts aren't my field, but someone in my group may know. I'll be in touch.** Signed "Mothman." Lewis hummed thoughtfully. That handle sounded familiar. Someone had mentioned it before. It might give him an excuse to ask Vivi. Maybe even have a normal conversation with her.

Mothman's comment kept Lewis requesting refreshes every two minutes. The Deadbeat seemed to think it was a game, often giggling or cheering for itself when it successfully carried out Lewis' command. Lewis softened a little, watching it enjoy itself.

 _Ping._ Lewis straightened. His skull drifted forward a few inches to read the chat.

**Mothman: Hi! I left a note on your blog earlier. My contact came through pretty quickly. Let me know when you've got time to talk.**

Lewis signaled the Deadbeat, who readied for the more challenging task of transcribing Lewis' words.

**Mod Skull: Hi Mothman. I'm here. Thanks for getting back to us. What do you have? And who's this contact?**

**Mothman: An agency friend. Can't say more. He went through a kind of branching-options talk with me.**

**Mothman: So first branch was, malicious or non-malicious ghost? Your post said non-hostile, so I said non-malicious.**

**Mothman: Next question was if there was an anchor. Small physical object, location, or person that the ghost seems particularly attached to?**

Lewis hesitated, his hand drifting up to the cracked locket hanging on the front of his suit. Best to not be too specific.

**Mod Skull: There's an anchor, yes.**

**Mothman: Didn't have that answer when I talked to my contact so I'll tell him and get back to you with what he says. Any other issues with the ghost you wanna run by him?**

**Mod Skull: It fries any electronics it touches. We've seen other ghosts, but not one that does that. This ghost even has other, smaller spirits that seem to assist him and they don't fry the electronics. Same reason as the voice issue? Different? Input would be great. Both issues together makes it really hard to communicate.**

**Mothman: Ten-four. I'll get back to you.**

**Mod Skull: Roger Roger. Thanks a bunch.**

Lewis pulled his focus back. The walls pulsated steadily in and out, like four massive chests breathing, shrinking the room inward a fraction with each cycle. The ceiling dripped thick ink into puddles on the floor. Each drawer on the desk was now a separate mouth with lips sprouting razor sharp teeth. Three wind-up clowns were stabbing themselves and laughing on a shelf, while the fourth was clinging to the whiteboard, using a dry-erase marker to illustrate a certain spiky-haired man with a noose around his neck—

Lewis grabbed that clown and hurled it to the ground. It shrieked like a child on fire before bursting apart into a swarm of tiny spiders. Disgusted, Lewis wiped the drawing away with his sleeve. The door was shut and locked, so the effects were confined to this room. Hopefully it would all fade out before anyone got back. Or needed to use the office.

Hopefully Mothman's contact would get back to him soon.


	6. Vonnegut

_**Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.** _ **—Kurt Vonnegut**

It was one of the many quotes in papyrus lettering, printed in black and white on size 8.5x11 printer paper and taped up around Tome Tomb's walls, and it was Vivi's least favorite. Not Vonnegut's fault. It was a perfectly serviceable quote to decorate a bookstore with, and often conjured to Vivi's mind a nebulous vision of what heaven or nirvana might look like. But it just wasn't true.

"Nothing was beautiful and everything hurt," she muttered for the millionth time. That was the reality of things. That was your feet on the ground right here and now. That was real life. The Vonnegut quote felt like a mockery each and every time she looked at it.

Vivi paged through the inventory shipment for the day, checking off the latest batch of manga Chloe had ordered for the shop. Her co-worker was allowed to order ten titles a month for the _International Corner_ — _Otaku Corner_ , if it were honestly titled—but it looked like she'd gone over the limit again. Duet, their boss, would lecture. Chloe would apologize and skip off to re-organize her corner again. Another overage would probably happen in a couple months. Chloe never got in real trouble, over this or anything else. It rankled Vivi a little, but until she could figure out what relational tie Duet and Chloe had, she wasn't going to risk griping.

Besides. There was a far more important can of worms to bust open.

She glanced at her watch. Almost lunch. Fishing her phone out of her pocket, she opened up a new text to Arthur.

 **Hey Artie** —Pausing, she considered how to best get a "yes" to her request. Arthur had been kinda dodgy about one-on-one meetings for a while. There was one surefire way, but… Wrinkling her nose, she continued typing. **Wanna do lunch? Surf's Up Surprise, my treat.** She shut her eyes, jamming her thumb down on the send button. "For the greater good," she muttered. Pizza with oysters was a sacrilege against gastronomy, but if she could finally get him to sit down and talk...

A few minutes later, her phone chirped, delivering Arthur's enthusiastic response. Right on time for Chloe to waltz in. "Is that my shipment?" she sang, spreading her arms wide. "I swear to Miyazaki, if they back-ordered my copies of the new _Card Captor Sakura_ issues again, I don't care how good a discount they give, I will find another supplier!"

Vivi rolled her eyes, mouthing along with Chloe's diatribe as she passed. "They think just because we're a small bookstore, they can jerk us around. Well they've got another think coming! There's a million suppliers out there, and I will have my manga or they can kiss our business goodbye!"

Vivi made it out the door without and crouched to untie Mystery's leash from the parking sign. "Hey, buddy. We're gonna have lunch with Arthur. Well, I'm gonna have lunch. I'll save you some."

Mystery immediately stuck his tongue out, making gagging noises.

"Not Arthur's pizza, dummy." She laughed, ruffling the top of his head. "I wouldn't do that to you. You can have some of my Slaughterhouse Pie."

That stubby tail wagged so fast it was a blur.

* * *

Vivi drummed her fingers on the table, keeping an eye on her watch. Allowing for travel, Arthur should be here about the same time as their pizzas came out to the dining area. She tried to remember a cheesy joke about watches, and who'd said it to her.

"Why do we call it a 'watch' when we're always looking… no." She frowned. "We should call it a 'look' because… nghhh." She couldn't remember whose voice had told her that one, either. Probably not Mystery. Could have been Arthur, but could have easily been assigned to the blank spot in her mind, the one where she was supposed to have memories of a certain ghost's mortal existence.

Her fingers drummed harder. She scowled at the smiley-faced security sign on the far wall. For a moment, her least favorite quote overlaid the words, "Smile! You're on camera."

Just a few months had passed since everything went topsy turvy. Months? Hah. It was more like one month that had refused to end since showing up. Some nightmarish, longest month that kicked off when she entered a roadside haunted mansion in hopes of roadside assistance and, instead, found a murderous skeleton who only held back from killing Arthur because she threw herself between them. The skeleton who had shown up later and taken advantage of her chaotic battle with a bloodthirsty yokai to drag Arthur off and do… who knows what? Vivi sure didn't know. Arthur wouldn't tell her what had happened in the back of that spectral truck. He always changed the subject, or got a spaced-out look. Pushing him for an answer always got her the _I-don't-want-to-talk-about-it_ stonewall.

And suddenly they were all living together. This was the guy Arthur had combed the state for, insistent that he was out there somewhere, in need of their help. This skeletal ghost had been her boyfriend, Arthur claimed, the guy who loved her more than anything when he was alive.

She took a deep breath, deliberately spreading her fingers flat on the surface of the table. The lacquered plank wood surface slid smoothly under her palms.

"One Slaughterhouse Pie and one Surf's Up Surprise."

Vivi pulled her hands back to her lap as the server laid two medium pizzas on the table. The server raised an eyebrow. "For the guy with the metal arm?" he gestured at the oyster pizza.

Vivi wrinkled her nose. "I hear he single-handedly keeps this monstrosity on the menu."

The server grinned. "Pretty much. Here. He usually wants this, too." He produced a bottle of oyster sauce and set it next to the pizza. Vivi made a face, and the server chuckled. "Yeah, same. Good luck." He flashed a thumbs-up and headed for the back.

She raised an eyebrow. Good luck… with the ungodly smell of the pizza? The conversation? Did he think this was a date?

"Oh, hey!" A familiar voice rang out from the front with a good deal more zeal than usual. "Would you look at that! I'm not hallucinating, that _is_ Vivi, sitting in front of a plate of the best pizza to ever exist!"

Vivi rolled her eyes, lifting a slice of the Slaughterhouse Pie. "Yeah, this."

"That, m'dear lady, is mere common fare." Arthur slid into the booth across from Vivi and scooped up a slice of Surf's Up with a flourish. "Kings and Kingsmen dine on the ocean's finest."

It was the brightest smile she'd seen on him in a year. Half a dozen different emotions converged on her. She forced a smile. "Wow. Who spiked your coffee with Redbull?"

He rolled his eyes, drenching his pizza with oyster sauce. "And who spit in _your_ drink? Do I have to have a caffeine cocktail to joke around?" He bit into the slice of pizza, grunting around the mouthful.

Vivi's teeth sank into her lip over the word _yes._ She had to be the world's most ungrateful person to resent the main reason the rings around Arthur's eyes had lessened and his sense of humor had returned.

It took Arthur two slices to slow down long enough to wipe his mouth on a napkin and ask, "What's the occasion? Did we get a case?"

Vivi just stared at him, setting her long-held slice back down on the plate. He sounded almost… eager.

"Vee? Earth to Vivi?" He put his pizza down, waving a hand in front of her face.

_Nothing was beautiful._

Try to keep it calm. Calm and reasonable. She folded her hands to keep them still. "We… we need to talk. About Lewis."

Arthur slurped some cheese strings up. "What about him?"

"You know it's bad policy to encourage ghosts to stick around."

Arthur laughed, but there was an edge to it. "Bad policy? Vee, this is Lewis we're talking about."

"Yeah. Right. Lew-is. Mind telling me exactly why that changes anything?"

Arthur's smile froze. The little crinkles at the corners of his eyes vanished. Vivi looked down at the pizza, forcing herself to continue. "Why is it all okay out of nowhere, Arthur? What were you thinking, inviting him to stick around like that?"

His eyes narrowed. "Isn't it a little late to be having this talk?"

 _Yes._ "Not at all. Seems to me like this is the first time we've had in ages. I mean, was I supposed to bring it up in the mediation session, in front of the ghost that nearly killed you twice? Or privately, afterward? Except you wouldn't let private talks happen. I had to bribe you today to get you alone. Why won't you sit down and talk to me anymore? Before all this, it was always just the two of us and we could talk about anything."

Some bouncy 80's ditty played over the speaker system. Trays clanged in the back. Arthur's prosthetic rattled. Vivi kept her eyes down.

"It. Wasn't." Arthur's words came around short, quick breaths. "Wasn't. Just. The two. Of us."

Vivi ground her teeth.

"And we couldn't. Talk about. Everything. You…" his voice trailed off.

"Yeah. You said that in the mediation. I blanked out anytime you tried to talk to me about what happened in the cave," she said, flatly. "And whose fault was that, Arthur? Not yours, and not mine. So, great, I gather that Lewis got his dying wish, so I remember nothing about his death. Except it stole a lot more than that from me. So I lost him completely and couldn't absorb anything anyone said about him, and now I'm expected to wholeheartedly trust this guy I don't remember at all? Accept him back into my life like everything is hunky-dory and he didn't try to commit murder?" She lifted her head and leaned forward. "Like he didn't try to murder _my best friend?_ "

Now it was Arthur's eyes that were anchored to the table. His entire upper body sagged over the soggy pizza. "He didn't know," he whispered. "He just thought—"

"Arthur. You were, supposedly, _his_ best friend." She leaned back and folded her arms. "Anyone with half a brain would double check their facts before roasting alive someone they claim to care about. Case in point, he couldn't have really cared. Not about you, and not about me, and I'm _not okay_ with the fact that he's living with us, no matter who I may have thought he was in the past. If I was romantically involved… obviously he conned us both."

"That's not true!" Arthur's outburst caught the attention of nearby patrons, who glanced over. He cringed, lowering his voice. "That's not true. He couldn't con anyone. He wasn't that kind of guy. He was over the moon for you, Vee, and he wouldn't hurt—"

"A fly? Say it again, Kingsmen. I dare you." She jabbed his chest with her index finger. "Unless you're going to tell me that fire he threw around wasn't real, or that he dragged you into his truck just to give you a stern talking-to in private."

Arthur looked down at the finger for a few seconds, then lifted his gaze. His expression was drawn and his face pale. "I don't appreciate this ambush."

She withdrew the pointer finger and refolded her arms. "Like I said. You don't really talk to me alone anymore. What was I supposed to do?"

"What were _you_ supposed to do? What am _I_ supposed to do?" Arthur snapped, taking Vivi by surprise. "I'm trying to build trust with Lewis again. It was…" he dropped his voice again, eyes darting to nearby patrons. He pointed to his prosthetic. "It was me, okay? It was me, and not me, but me! And he thought the reason I did it was because I was trying to get with you, so you tell me! What does it look like if I exclude him and have a bunch of private talks with you? I figured today was okay specifically _because_ I've kept it to a minimum—"

"I don't give a salmon's yard clippings what that kelp smoker thinks of my relationships with other living humans, romantic or non! They're my relationships!"

"That's because you don't remember him, so you don't care what he thinks or feels!" Arthur wiped his hands on a napkin and stood. "I do both. And I'm really done with this conversation. Lost my appetite."

"Wait! Artie!" Groaning, she dug into her purse and dropped cash on the table, then darted after him.

_And everything hurt._

She caught him just outside the front door, grabbing his arm. "Artie—"

He turned on her with a hard stare. "Do you know what I'm going to find when I get back to that house?" he asked. "I'm going to find a plate of really good home cooked food on the table. I'm going to find the bathroom is clean, and that my room isn't buried in ten piles of smelly clothes. I'm probably not even going to see Lewis except out of the corner of my eye. Because the guy I shoved off a cliff seems to be intent on spending his afterlife _apologizing to me_." He shook her off. "And to you. You, at least, deserve that kind of apology for catching splash damage off his attacks. There's nothing Lewis did to me that wasn't justified. I'm going back to the shop. Don't follow me. And stop putting ward charms on my door."

* * *

" 'Thanks for signing on for the house with me, _Vivi._ Thanks for living there so Lewis can't crisp me with impunity, _Vivi._ Thanks for always being ready to FedEx that flaming skull to Tartarus if he threatened me again, _Vivi._ " Vivi kicked a rock, sending it skittering down the sidewalk a good several feet. "Thanks for caring whether I live or die and noticing how I'm being stupid about that lately, _Vivi.'_ "

Her eyes prickled. " 'Maybe I'll listen to you for once, since you listened to me and let me drag you all over the state looking for someone you didn't even remember, _Vivi._ Oh, does it still scare you that you have gaps in your brain? I'm so sorry, maybe we can figure out what to do about that together, _Vivi._ Maybe my tree-friend knows what to do, why don't I finally introduce you to her?' Any of the above, Arthur. Seriously. Any of them." She swiped an arm across her nose. "Jerk."

Her other hand clutched the leash, but Mystery hadn't made a sound since she left the pizza shop with the boxed-up leftovers. Hadn't even begged for the portion she'd promised. _Smart dog._ Somebody _knows how to read the room._

Work could stuff itself. Duet could lecture her when she came in tomorrow, she had something to get off her chest. The pavement passed under her feet concrete block after concrete block, until her feet hit the gravel path, and then the front porch of their house.

The keys jangled and clanked loudly as she tried to fit the right one in the lock. Before she had the chance, the door swung open, soundless. Glancing up, she saw a little pink Deadbeat peeking around from the doorknob. Gritting her teeth, she swept past it. At her feet, Mystery whined, tugging at the leash, but she dropped it and stormed into the kitchen.

There he was. All that remained of Lewis Pepper stared at her, gripping a large plastic mixing bowl in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other, frozen mid-scoop.

Vivi dug her fingers into the palms of her hands. "Right. So. Thought I should make something clear, since apparently I'm late expressing my dissatisfaction with this situation and I haven't been clear enough. I don't think you should be here." She jerked her chin up, levelling her coldest glare at him. "I think that if you really used to work with us, then you know the rules about ghosts hanging around. They're to be encouraged to wrap up their business and move on. And if things were different, I'd be walking you through that process myself." A brittle smile stretched across her face. "But instead, Arthur decided to bring you home and encourage you to stay. So. I thought I'd let you know that I'm just waiting for you to pull something."

Lewis very slowly set the bowl down on the counter. Vivi continued. "Anything. Really. I want an excuse, because I want you gone, and if you lay a hand on him—if you even mildly threaten him—I will obliterate you. And no, I don't care what our group policy used to be. I will exorcise you, and I will feel no guilt over your pain."

Lewis didn't meet her eyes. He kept his skull tilted downward and his hands folded behind his back, hovering an inch or two off the floor. Vivi inhaled, readying to finish her diatribe, when she caught a whiff.

A spicy scent hung in the air. Peppers and garlic. Carmelizing onions. A warm, yeasty smell like freshly rolled tortillas. It smelled like security. Like home. Like diving into a snug embrace and—

The prickling behind her eyelids intensified. Her lungs compressed, wringing a squeak from her, right before pain bloomed at the base of her skull, rolling a sheet of white across her vision as her knees buckled…

She blinked, staring out the window. She lay curled up in the window-seat by the front, a blanket pulled up over her. There was a note taped to the window. She plucked it free and pulled it closer.

**Dinner will be late. Need to make something else. I think smell triggered the memory block. Didn't think that through. I'm sorry. I'll do better. —Lewis**

What… had he been making? Now she had to look out for _food smells_? The paper crumpled in her grip. It happened from time to time over things she couldn't predict, but… couldn't it just…

She pulled her knees closer to her chest, staring at the front lawn. Mystery passed by on a circuit around the house. He was rather intent on his own paws and didn't look up at her. Someone had removed his leash. Someone had carried her to the window-seat and put a blanket over her. Someone had tried to make dinner, just like Arthur said.

Someone had also tried to commit homicide.

Vivi shut her eyes and allowed a few tears to leak out. What in the far flung phalanxes was she going to do about this someone?


	7. Progress

**Mod Skull: Mod Skull, here. Please tell me you've got something.**

**Mothman: Hey Mod Skull. My contact wants to know if the ghost anchor is damaged at all. Says that sometimes a damaged anchor lessens a ghost's control of itself and its effect on surrounding areas.**

Lewis slumped. _Of course._ His fingers traced the fractured gray surface of his heart-shaped locket.

**Mod Skull: Yeah, lots of cracks in it. We saw the ghost's anchor get damaged twice. First time it healed up, not sure why though. Hasn't healed from the second incident, and that time the damage was worse.**

**Mothman: Think you have your answer. Ghosts don't often have issues like you're describing. Manipulation of their surroundings is usually done on purpose, if at all. So if it's happening unintentionally and the ghost isn't being impeded or harassed by another spiritual entity, it's probably damage to the anchor.**

Lewis plucked the locket from his suit and turned it around to stare at the surface. None of the cracks had closed even a little. It still looked like a firm hit might shatter it.

 **Mod Skull:**... _ *****_ _is typing*._ _ **..**_ **We'll look into fixing the anchor, but …**

Lewis paused. _But how do we do that?_ He didn't want to make the Skulls look incompetent. This wasn't Mothman's issue to solve. Whoever Mothman really was, he sounded professional. He had a network and other operatives to draw on while the Skulls were still in the early stages of their career and still fumbling around. First impressions were important.

 **Mod Skull:**... _*is typing*_ …

Asking what Mothman thought would fix the anchor could easily lead to unfortunate questions about what the rest of the Skulls thought, and Lewis was the only one looking into this. Hinting at discord within the team might also drive Mothman off.

"Delete that," he sighed. The Deadbeat cheerfully jammed the delete key. "Tell him, 'We'll see what we can do for him. Thanks for the tip.'" He had no idea what might fix this. Maybe some brainstorming in a notebook… or with Mystery? Mystery didn't seem averse to talking with him. Lewis just hadn't tried to start a conversation with Mystery since the mediation. Maybe he was awake? Lewis turned toward the door when the chat box dinged.

**Mothman: Sure. No problem. Maybe I can come see the ghost? Might be able to help out.**

Lewis tensed. There was no way that could happen.

**Mothman: Ghosts aren't really my specialty, but I'm hitting a wall in my own field and could use a changeup to expand my learning.**

**Mothman: Travel isn't an issue, though if we could swing it on a weekend that would help.**

**Mothman: You wouldn't have to credit me or anything! It's just that some cross-training would be nice.**

Mothman had been helpful, but any investigator they didn't personally know could be an exorcist looking for one more notch on their belt.

Still…

 _No. Too risky. Best give him the "thinking about it" line and think up a polite excuse later._ Lewis put a hand on the doorknob, which gnashed at his fingers, chipping its fangs on his bone-plated gloves. "Tell him I have to think about it. I'll be back." Abandoning the doorknob, he phased through the door and drifted into the hall.

He glided past the windows, head turned to take in the evening view. A moon sliver grinned down at him from a pin-pricked sky. In the backyard, Yettle's leaves rustled in a breeze. A greenish yellow glow roamed among the branches. Cicadas screeched out their eerie orchestra in the grass.

Gingerly, he peeked around the corner into the kitchen. Nobody there, but a plate of food and accompanying fork still sat on the counter. He had definitely left two plates of Turmeric pilau and chicken curry sitting there; his second attempt at dinner. Lewis snagged the dish—cold, now—and turned it around and around in his hands. Pink flames gently licked up from his palms, heating the ceramic plate and the food on it. Vivi might be hostile to him, but she'd never turned down his cooking. Highly likely she'd already claimed her dish.

Arthur, on the other hand… he'd never turn down an opportunity to eat per say, but he did have a bad habit of forgetting that he needed food. Especially if he was excited about a project or upset about something.

 _Wait, Arthur is back, right?_ Lewis peeked out front, confirmed the presence of the van, and returned to the kitchen. Definitely back, and he hadn't seen Arthur in the backyard, so…

He stared down at the plate, wisps of fire curling around the edges. Delivering the food wouldn't be too intrusive, right? Something that simple wouldn't set Arthur off. If Lewis set the food down a few feet away, it wouldn't fry Arthur's arm or any of his projects either. Too simple to get wrong. Too easy to screw up. It would be fine. It would be fine. It—

Smoked drifted up from the plate. Lewis quickly dissipated his flames, flapping his free hand at the smoke. He scooted out of the kitchen and into the hall, glancing nervously at the smoke alarms. The last thing he needed was Vivi charging out to banish him over a cooking mistake.

The cracks in his locket ached. _She really would._

Once the plate stopped smoking, Lewis scooped the burnt bits of chicken and rice from the edges of the plate and dropped them in Mystery's bowl. He didn't seem to care as much. Not that Arthur would, but it was the principle of the thing.

Lewis turned his head slowly, looking down the other half of the hall that led to the bedrooms. The light was on under Arthur's door. Simple food delivery. Making sure Arthur actually ate today, a good hot meal with no burned bits. No big deal. Best friends would do that.

He gave Vivi's room a wide berth as he passed, his form rippling at the unpleasant aura seething off the door. The last time he'd glanced at the door, he'd… actually he wasn't sure what had happened. The next thing he remembered was emerging from the locket and checking the time to find half a day had passed. He was careful to not approach that door too closely or look directly at it anymore.

He carefully set the plate down on the ground in front of Arthur's door. Something loud whirred on the other side, and shadows flitted through the light underneath. He'd have to knock hard enough to catch Arthur's attention. Bracing himself, he rapped his knuckles on the door.

_Shave-and-a-hair-cut._

The whirring stopped. Lewis quickly phased upward, concealing himself inside the ceiling. He poked his skull out just enough to see the door crack inward. Arthur peered out, scanning the empty hall for a couple seconds before dropping his eyes down to the floor, where the plate of food waited.

"Oh. Oh! I… Yeah." Arthur leaned down— _only one arm?_ —and picked up the plate, grimacing. He scanned the hallway again, then sighed. "Not sure if you're around to hear me, but… thanks. I forgot."

Lewis felt a touch lighter. _I figured._

Arthur remained in the doorway, looking from the plate of food in his hand to the empty hall and back again. After a few seconds of this, he spoke again. "Um. Hey. If you. Y'know. Happen to be in hearing range. Wanna… come sit? With me? I'm just. Um." He jerked his head backward. "Working on the arm. I haven't…" he trailed off, focusing hard on the plate. "...haven't really seen you. Around. Much."

Lewis held very still.

"So." Arthur looked up at the hall once more. "Yeah… door's open." He backed up into his room. "Metaphorically. I'm shutting the actual door for now." With that, he nudged it closed with his foot.

Moments later, Lewis' narrow shoes touched the floor without a sound.

_It it really…?_

_It has to be alright. Arthur says it is._

_But there's so much nobody says out loud now. Even before, there were things that went unsaid. Unasked. Does Arthur really want… or is he just trying to be polite? Trying to say what he thinks will keep me from getting upset?_

" _I haven't really seen you. Around. Much." Doesn't sound like placating an angry spirit._

Hesitantly, Lewis knocked on the door, much softer than before.

_Shave-and-a-hair-cut._

Long pause. Then, "Two bits," Arthur called.

Lewis poked the door with a finger, easing it open slowly and peeking around the edge.

Arthur's room wasn't technically part of the house. It was the garage. He'd claimed it immediately, declaring a combination bedroom-workshop was what he'd always wanted and that Vivi should get the single bedroom. He had a metal frame and blanket swathed mattress shoved up against the wall that the garage shared with the house. Dirty clothes tended to collect on the floor around the bed. Lewis put clean clothes in the bookshelf Arthur had dragged in from someone's yard sale. The rest of the garage was dedicated to large machinery Lewis could never hope to put a name to and workbenches littered with medium to small specialty tools. There were one or two lamps per workstation and a space heater per two workstations.

Arthur bolted up from the nearest workstation, dinner still in hand. Bits of rice flew off the edge of the plate. "Hey! Oops. Sorry. I'll, uh, sweep that. Later."

Lewis rolled his eyes. Sawdust and metal shavings already blanketed the ground around the station. _You and I both know you'll get distracted and never give it another thought._

Arthur grimaced, setting the plate down. "Eh, sorry. I know I don't do that as often as I should. Usually you end up… you don't have to, you know. It's okay, I can handle it. I'll get to it eventually."

Lewis waved his hands in short strokes in front of his chest. _No, no. Not a problem. It gives me something to do._

Arthur hesitated, tilting his head. "Is that 'No, that's okay' or 'sweeping is a virtue'?"

Lewis paused, then lifted one finger. _First one._

"Ah. Got it." He sat back on the stool. "I'll get the hang of this. Though." He frowned, forking a piece of chicken and chewing on it. "I haven't heard anything from Vivi in the research department about your talking issue. I gotta… bug her. About that." He sighed, shutting his eyes.

Lewis looked around for something that he couldn't fry on contact. He drifted to a sawhorse, dragging it a few feet further from the workstation, and pointed to it. _Can I sit here?_

Arthur blinked. "Come again?"

Lewis pointed to himself, then pointed to the sawhorse.

"... you want to possess it?"

Lewis stared at Arthur. Slowly, he perched himself on the sawhorse.

"Oh! Oh, yeah, you can sit there. Not a problem. Thanks for joining me. I haven't seen you around much."

Lewis' eyes shifted to the fork in Arthur's hand. Because he was watching for it, he saw the fork tremble. The cracks in his locket ached again.

_You're still scared of me._

Arthur sat down. "Haven't really gotten a chance to say it to your face, but you're still the best cook I know. It's really nice. This." He gestured to the plate. "Thank you. Something else you don't… y'know. _Have_ to do. But thank you."

Lewis dipped his head once. Silence reclaimed the garage as Arthur tucked into the food. With every bite, tension bled away from Arthur, and Lewis warmed to see the food vanish with increasing speed. _Still incapable of savoring anything,_ Lewis noted with amusement. _You and Vivi both. Absolute heathens._

Next to the rapidly vanishing meal lay Arthur's prosthetic. A couple panels hung open, exposing wires and circuits. A tiny, expensive looking tool stuck out of an opening.

About three bites from the end, Arthur glanced up. "Hey, Lew? Do you have something else to do right now?"

_Is he asking to excuse me from the room? Is he asking because he wants me to do something for him?_

"I mean, if you're not busy, and if it's not too boring for you, mind sticking around with me for a bit?"

Lewis relaxed, nodding.

"You do mind?"

He shook his head hard.

"You don't mind. Okay. Got it." Arthur's smile was a little crooked, but it reached his eyes. "I'll get there. Thought it would be nice to hang out, some. Maybe on nights when I don't need total focus?"

Lewis stared at the arm. _That doesn't require his total focus?_ The corners of his eyesockets turned up and he nodded. _I'll be by more often. It would be nice._

The cracks ached a little less.

* * *

**Mod Skull: Sorry, but we're not ready to do in-person collaboration at this point. Team members who don't communicate smoothly can make rookie mistakes, and we're not ready to work with unfamiliar people yet. Really appreciate the tips, though, and I'll keep the blog updated with our progress.**

**Mothman: Yeah. No problem. Glad I could help. Let me know if you change your mind.**


	8. Follow Up

End of the line.

_A hand the size of his whole face grabs the front of his shirt and lifts him off his feet. He dangles over the edge of a cliff, suspended by a fist and a flimsy knot of cloth. His one good hand grips the ghost's arm. It won't be enough to save him._

_He doesn't want to die. He hasn't tried hard enough to find Lewis yet. Is this ghost trying to keep him from finding Lewis? Did this ghost do something to Lewis, too?_

_Adrenaline shrieks through his body as he kicks his legs, struggling to get the words out._

Stop.

Please.

I want to live.

I have to find him.

Where's Vivi?

I'm scared.

_He can't unlock his jaw. His prosthetic spasms, twitching around to clamp onto the ghost's arm. In that moment, the wrathful skull shifts into a familiar face. Purple hair. Thick eyebrows. An expression more suited to warm smiles than this bitter fury._

_Everything shatters._

" _Lewis?" Recognition loosens his lips an instant before Lewis drops him over the edge._

_Seconds later, his body is torn apart by the jagged rocks._

_The pain is momentary, a brief flash of cognizance before his brain shuts down, his body too broken to proceed._

_But he is still there. He sees himself now, as if standing back and watching as a strange figure crawls out of the ruin of bone and flesh among the rocks. The new figure looks just like him, except it is only half. One eye, one arm, one leg. His eye is a black hollow with a glowing, orange iris set in it. A soft orange light spills off the edges of his form. Half an Arthur._

_The newly formed ghost of Arthur hovers there for a moment, dazed. Slowly lifts a half-face to stare up at the skeleton that peers over the edge at him._

" _Maybe… maybe now," the half-Arthur croaks, "we can talk this through?"_

* * *

Arthur twisted around and flailed as he rolled off the edge of his bed and hit the garage floor shoulder-stump first. Light danced at the edges of his vision as the pain forked across his neck and upper spine. He gasped, writhing to get free of the tangle of sheets with just one arm.

_Half. There's just half of me left!_

Out of habit, he took a mouthful of sheets between his teeth and counted seconds, focusing on his breath. He pressed his forehead against the concrete. Hard. Cold. Frigid, really, against the sweat beading his forehead. It snapped his thoughts in line. Out of the nightmare. Into reality.

This was reality. In reality, he only had one arm and everything else was fine.

In reality Lewis had called up a memory plane of the cave he himself had died in and dropped Arthur over the cliff. Just before impact, Lewis had dispersed that memory plane. By the time Arthur had hit the ground, the stalagmite-riddled cave floor was just the back of a semi-truck with a bunch of boxed Chicky-Licky supplies. In reality, Lewis hadn't carried through with his revenge. Arthur was plenty alive.

Lewis, however, was not. That also was reality.

Arthur lay there a little longer, allowing more bits of reality to trickle in. Lewis was dead, but not murderous. They were all together again. Trying to work through it. No imminent danger. No threat of— _bacon?_ Arthur sniffed the air.

Definitely bacon. Lewis was at it in the kitchen. If he hurried, he might catch Lewis before he hid himself away. Arthur wriggled again, trying to get free of his cotton cocoon. After a couple minutes of futile effort, straining and grunting all the while, he was forced to conclude that it was not going very well. Huffing, he lifted his head, ready to yell for help. He caught himself as a different idea crossed his mind. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

A few minutes later, Arthur had managed to wriggle his way out of the garage and into the hallway. He squirmed and wormed his way to the kitchen where Lewis hovered in front of the stove.

"Hey, Lew. Smells good," he remarked.

Lewis turned, nearly dropping the frying pan when he saw Arthur. Arthur kept wiggling toward the kitchen island, panting from the exertion. "Smelled it all the way from the garage. Nice day. How are things?"

Lewis stared down at him. Arthur couldn't read the expression on the skull, so he threw in the sure fire groaner. "Mind giving me a hand up? I misplaced mine."

Lewis set the pan down on the stove and darted out of the room. A door slammed around the corner. Arthur deflated, letting his cheek rest on the kitchen floor. "But… I thought it would be funny."

It was then he heard a string of rather choked gekkering. He lifted his head and caught sight of Mystery on the other side of the kitchen, his snout between his paws. The pup quivered, his tail twitching as he made little explosions of strange noises. After a minute or so, he managed to raise his head, grinning all the way up his snout. "I think… Lewis just… didn't want to spoil the moment. With his laughter. You see."

Arthur took that in for a moment. "Ah." Lewis laughing might turn the room into a real serious Hell's kitchen. "I didn't think that through."

"No. But it was well intended." Mystery trotted over, grabbed a section of sheet between his teeth, and tugged hard. Between his yanking and Arthur's struggles, the sheet finally came off.

Arthur wound the sheet up in a ball and tossed it back down the hall. "I'll put it away later. Too bad Vivi wasn't here."

"She left for work early."

Arthur blinked. "Why didn't she take you—" More bits of reality filtered in. "Right. I have a follow-up with Dr. Noble today." He sighed, sitting at the kitchen island. "Thanks for agreeing to come with me."

"You owe me a romp in the park," Mystery warned, trotting back to his water bowl.

He did indeed owe that to Mystery. He also probably owed Vivi an apology and a calmer conversation, too. He was Right with a capital R, but she also had a lot of very valid points. Even if she was Wrong about the big picture. Capital W. He ground the heel of his palm into his eye. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

A warm hand settled on his shoulder. Arthur flinched before his brain caught up with the input. He glanced up over his shoulder to see Lewis there, the corners of his eyesockets crinkled upward. Lewis flashed a thumbs up and traced a smiley face over the front of his skull with his fingers. Arthur managed a grin back. "Your fault for making breakfast smell so good. I just couldn't wait."

Lewis rolled his eyes and hovered over to the stove, returning with a plate of bacon and fried eggs. Arthur lit up, forking an egg into his mouth before Lewis could set the plate down. "How do you _do_ that?" he groaned, savoring the flavor. He knew this particular trick was as simple as cooking the eggs in leftover bacon grease, but _STILL._

Lewis bent down and portioned out a serving into Mystery's bowl. Ever since the move, Mystery had been getting actual food instead of kibble. No one, least of all Lewis, saw the sense in feeding him like a dog now that the Kitsune was out of the bag.

Other members of the gang were still "in the bag" so to speak. Arthur slowed down after slurping up his third egg and turned over a question that had been sitting in the back of his mind for a while, now. "Hey. Lew. I'm just wondering. Do you think… you'll ever tell your… or try to see your family? Let them know you're not just… gone?"

Lewis turned from the dishes in the sink and gestured at himself from head to toe with one hand, tapped where his mouth should be, then hung his head.

Arthur frowned. "Yeah. But. What if you at least got the speech thing under control?"

Again, Lewis gestured at himself from head to toe, then turned his hand parallel to the ground and held it at knee height.

"I know you don't want to scare your sisters, but if we prepped them before you came out…" he sighed. Belle would probably try to body tackle Lewis, and Cayenne wouldn't be far behind, but it was hard to know how little Paprika would take it. Arthur really needed Vivi helping him figure out what was wrong with Lewis, but that would require talking through their argument and coming to some sort of workable resolution first.

Lewis shook his head and waved a hand, turning back to the sink. Glumly, Arthur finished his food, thanked Lewis, and returned to his room to don his prosthetic and dress for the day.

* * *

Mulling through the argument with Vivi kept most of Arthur's brain occupied as he drove himself and Mystery over to Tempo First Medical Center. The trick was not to let himself notice the balancing act between autopiloting through the front doors and the detail-intensive instant replay of the conversation he had playing in his head. He managed to get all the way to the reception desk before his nervous system kicked into high gear, stabbing his lungs with the icy compulsion to _GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT._ He managed to sign in, holding his breath the whole time, then walked himself over to the waiting room chairs. He sprawled across two of them, gasping like a set of bellows in the hands of a frantic blacksmith.

Immediately, Mystery hopped up into his lap and leaned against his chest, licking his chin. Shivering, Arthur wrapped his arms around Mystery, burying his face in the fur. "I hate this place," he mumbled. "Hate it. Hate it. Hate it. Why. I'm such a child. Why can't I handle this myself like a damn adult."

"Arthur Kingsmen?"

His head snapped up. Dr. Noble stood at the door, clip-board in hand, watching him. Before he could stand, she crossed the room. "I'm so sorry, the office should have notified you. I need to cancel the appointment. Do you think you could call in later and reschedule?"

Reprieve. All internal processes dialed back down to a normal, comfortable pace. Relief manifested as a desperately glad smile on his face. "Yeah… sure. Not a problem. Absolutely."

"Perfect. Though I would like to ask you something on the way out, if you don't mind?"

"Not at all." Arthur nudged Mystery, who hopped back down to the ground. Arthur grabbed the end of the leash and stood, following Dr. Noble out of the office. He could swear the air pressure was different the moment he stepped out. "What do you want to know?"

Dr. Noble waited until the door closed behind them. "I want to know if you'll forgive me for a bit of subterfuge. There's no need to reschedule, I'd like to have our follow-up now, but I propose a less stressful environment. I'd also like to ask you a few things off the record. We have a pond out back with nice fountains and a few benches. Plenty of open space and nobody to overhear. Is this acceptable?"

Tension flooded back, but it returned at manageable levels. Swallowing, Arthur nodded shortly. "A-after you."

She paused. "How is Mystery with squirrels?"

Arthur clutched the leash. "No trouble, Doctor. He's well trained."

"Alright, alright. It's okay, Arthur. I'm not sending him off. Just making sure he doesn't bolt and leave you when you need him. Come this way."

She led him down a few hallways, then waved open a set of automatic glass doors. A cement walkway snaked down a grassy slope, splitting off a few times before one branch reached a small pond. It was ringed with slabs of slate and had small trees, bushes, and flowers growing around the edges in orderly intervals. A large marble bench stood on one side of the pond. In the center of the pond, a fountain sprayed water in large, lovely arcs three times Arthur's height. Arthur sat at one end of the bench, scrunched up against the arm-rest. Dr. Noble sat at the other end. Mystery climbed up between them, resting his head in Arthur's lap.

Dr. Noble flipped a couple pages on her clipboard. "Thank you for coming. Let's start with the new medication. It's been a couple weeks since the new prescription, so talk to me about how it's managing your pain and any side effects you've noticed."

The sound of the fountain spray hitting the pond was soothing. The air smelled like cut grass. Arthur hadn't realized how high he'd hunched his shoulders until they started to relax. He pulled out his little notebook, detailing daily doses and his physical and mental response to the changes. Nightmares, he noted, had increased, but that was probably just normal processing, not the result of his medication. He passed the notebook over and waited as she scanned the pages.

He wondered if it was possible to have all his sessions outside, but dismissed it as unlikely. One couldn't have blood drawn or other samples taken like this. No point asking. Still, if he could just have his follow-up sessions this way...

Dr. Noble pursed her lips. "Alright. All this all looks good. Thank you." She shut the book and passed it back to him. "Now. Here's the part where I go off the record."

Arthur eyed her, wary.

"I'll swear strict confidentiality, but whatever information you can give me will be helpful." She traced a finger down a readout on her clipboard. "We found a foreign agent in your bloodstream. It emerged in trace amounts in the blood draw during prep for your second surgery, but we couldn't match it to anything. Not drugs, not basic diseases, and strangest of all is that your immune system isn't attacking it."

Arthur stared at her.

"Now, there's no issue with your immune system, as you've been fighting off normal infections. The healing around the prosthetic implant is a good sign of that. But we can't identify this foreign agent, and it seems to be increasing its presence gradually. We've traced an increase through the last several blood draws, and like I said, your body still isn't treating it like an invasion."

Blank. Everything in his head went blank. "What. What does it. What."

Mystery barked. Arthur sucked in the breath he'd been holding as Mystery pawed at his thigh. He tried again. "What does that mean, Doctor? For me?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you could shed more light on it."

Arthur tried not to think about the chasmic unknown this cleaved into his future, focusing on the time frame Dr. Noble had given him. "So. Right before the rest of the stump was removed." It was long before the third surgery that had given him the prosthetic implant, so it couldn't have anything to do with the prosthetic.

"Is there anything that happened, then? Or anything you may have taken?" she asked.

Arthur blinked. "I didn't… are you asking me if I shot up? Or-or pills? No! Of course not!"

She held his gaze, leaning forward a little. "Arthur, this is why this conversation is off the record and in strict confidence. If you did, even once, it's important that I know. This isn't about judging you or putting a mark on your record. This is about figuring out what this foreign agent is so we can get ahead of it, and there's always a concern about contaminants when dealing with unregulated drugs."

There were no walls to close in on him, but the smell of grass and chlorinated water began to choke him. "Nothing. I s-swear. I ran off to-to the woods one time right after they sewed me u-up. I don't remember much about that time, but no drugs. I couldn't have." He stared down at Mystery. "I c-couldn't have...?"

Mystery gave the tiniest shake of his head.

"No. Nothing, Doc-doctor." It didn't ease the pressure in his chest. There was something in his body and it was probably killing him slowly, and Dr. Noble didn't know what it was. "Do you know how long I-I have?"

Mystery squirmed in his lap, but Arthur was beyond sensory anchoring. Every pulse beat felt like he was drifting further away from his body.

"How long you… I never said it was killing you. We don't know what it's doing, if anything. Right now, everything seems to be functioning well. Actually, your cholesterol results have gone down a bit. But because it's unknown, we have to keep an eye on it. Try to figure it out. Arthur? Arthur, breathe!"

Arthur nodded. The leash slipped out of his hand. He couldn't feel his pulse anymore. He couldn't feel Mystery, either. Dr. Noble's voice pitched as the scenery tilted around him, but he couldn't hear her very well either. He was dying. Definitely dying. It was just going to be very slow. Lots of hospital visits. Lengthy stays. Probably he'd waste away in some sterile white room. Probably—

Water sprayed him in the face. Dr. Noble shrieked. Arthur spluttered as his clothes went from dry to drenched in a second. He scrubbed his face on an arm too wet to help much and quickly located Mystery, who continued shaking pondwater out of his coat as Arthur scrunched up against the bench. As soon as he'd shaken himself off, Mystery turned around and plunged back into the pond, wallowing around and eyeing Arthur with a glint in his eye.

"Are you kidding?!" Arthur yelled, vaulting over the back of the bench and making a break for it. Putting the bench between them bought him precious seconds, but it was no contest. Ten strides later, four legs overtook two and Mystery propelled himself into the back of Arthur's legs. Arthur buckled to the ground where he endured a second thorough wettening from Mystery's coat.

"I reek of soggy dog!" Arthur groaned.

Mystery snorted, stepping up to Arthur's head and barking straight into his ear. Arthur recoiled. "Rude!"

Dr. Noble hurried over. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He lay there a moment longer, then pushed himself up. "I'm sorry you got wet too. I really needed that. I think I was pretty far gone for a moment, there."

She stared down at Mystery for a long moment, then slipped a hand in her pocket and produced a dog cookie. "I have a friend who bakes gourmet canine treats. They're a bit pricey, but…" she trailed off, then dropped the treat for Mystery, who caught it before it hit the ground. "You have a top quality animal, there. He seems to know exactly what you need, even if that means a soaking."

Arthur shrugged. "He's on loan, but he's the smartest dog I've ever known." He grinned weakly. "Call me cliche, but it's almost like he understands everything I say."

Mystery snorted again, but wagged his tail and stood still while Arthur grabbed the end of his leash. He ran a hand through his hair, sending another sluice of water down the back of his shirt. "Did you like the cookie, Mystery?"

Mystery was practically dancing on his paws as he yapped an affirmative. Arthur held a hand out to Dr. Noble. "Got a card for that friend of yours?"

Dr. Noble nodded, producing a business card and proffering it. She held onto her end as Arthur grabbed the other. "Arthur, you're sure there's nothing you can think of?"

 _Deep breath._ Arthur looked her square in the eyes. "No, Doctor. Not that I know of. If I remember anything relevant, I'll call you up and make an appointment right then." He eased the card out of her grip. "I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I feel guilty about not writing enough "plot" in this fic, and then I scold myself, "That's literally what I made this fic to be. A place where I didn't have to deal with big huge intricate plot arcs." And then I stop feeling guilty and enjoy writing at potentially the slowest pace I've ever gone in my entire fic writing career. Does this fic qualify as a "slow burn"? I guess I have to ask because I don't think I've ever read a slow burn fic. I probably should rectify that. It sounds like the sort of thing I might enjoy at this stage in my life. By the way, there is no romantic pairing that involves Dr. Noble. She is just a good-hearted doctor working slightly out of bounds to accommodate a patient she's extra worried about.
> 
> Thoughts now that The Future is out: I've only the faintest clue how Shiro Mori may crop up in this story, and NO ideas for Murder Mystery. This story will probably diverge from canon in regards to the smackdown Shiro Mori got and the transition from Mystery to Murder Mystery. But we'll see. For now, assume this fic's setup is aligned with everything up through Arthur getting dropped but not dying. Beyond that point, I'll see what the characters in this version of the universe are telling me happened. Also, I'm going for canonical sister portrayal in this story, so the Cayenne in this story has NOTHING to do with the Cayenne in the Just Legends series.


	9. Chat Log 2

Lewis' skull bobbed in time with the musical trills the Deadbeats gave off as he carefully aligned another strip of blue painter's tape with the wall and lowered it onto the baseboard. He slid two fingers along the length of it to stick it in place, then grabbed the roll and tore off another strip. There was something soothing about the rhythm, even more so if he kept time with the Deadbeat choir.

He had gotten them to pull all the furniture back from the walls to the center of the room or, in some cases, move it out to the hall. But after that, he only asked them to sing for him. A task like this required extra hands only if you were trying to save time and energy. He had more time than he wanted and nowhere to go spend it, so it was better to use it up slowly.

The office walls had degraded. The nightmares that appeared when he spoke always faded after a few hours, but after a few weeks more permanent effects were showing up. A large patch of mold spread along one corner of the ceiling and there were several reddish-brown dripstains on the walls. At every corner paint was cracked, blistered, or coming off in large strips.

He'd taken it upon himself to watch several hours of DIY videos during the previous night and, once he was certain what supplies were needed, he wrote up a shopping list. He included it with a written report on the new effects of his spoken words, added a large paint chip from the wall, and left it all in an envelope outside of Vivi's door. This afternoon, she'd unloaded the requested supplies into the kitchen without a word, then left the house again.

He really, really wished Vivi and Arthur were back on speaking terms. It seemed more plausible than wishing Vivi would talk to Lewis, at this point.

With the baseboard protected, Lewis floated up toward the ceiling to lay out the next round of protective tape.

For a moment, he pictured himself continuing his task, but with Arthur already rolling paint onto the wall and Vivi sneaking up behind him with a well-dipped paintbrush. Maybe she'd turn to Lewis, raising a finger to her lips for effect, then pounce. Maybe Arthur would turn and run the roller over her head in mock outrage. Maybe they would all laugh, and Lewis would take a picture for the blog, and…

Shaking his head free of the image, he finished taping the edges of the ceiling and drifted back down. Mechanically, he picked up the paint roller and loaded a fresh, fluffy cover onto it. One Deadbeat scooted a pan of newly poured paint over to him, chirping. He paused, then patted its head. They had a knack for picking up on his moods and gave him little gestures of solidarity and support when it went south. Still, he gently wagged a finger at the Deadbeat. He really wanted to take his time with this room. There was an excess of leftovers in the fridge so there was no need to cook today, but he still had to fill the hours.

The front door opened and shut. Lewis stilled, listening. Heavier tread on the floorboards. Some grunting. Arthur? Back with something heavy, maybe. _He might need help._ Lewis set the roller down and left the office, rounding the corner just in time to see Arthur haul Mystery into the bathroom and shut the door. Puddles marked their trail from the front door. A few seconds later, the pipes in the walls rattled up to a roar as the tub started to fill.

Shrugging, Lewis snagged a few dirty towels from Arthur's room and returned to mop up the spills. He wiped the water from the floor and gathered a clean set of towels and clothes. Approaching the bathroom door, he waited until the water stopped running before he knocked.

Arthur cracked the door, peeking around the corner. "Oh!" He glanced down at the stack Lewis held out. "Oh. Thanks. Sorry about the mess. Tried to get to the bathroom fast but we probably dripped everywhere. Somebody decided I needed a soaking." He took the stack and Lewis waved off the apology. "We'll be out later. Any cases come in?"

Lewis paused. He snapped his fingers, delighted. He knew he'd forgotten something. He nodded several times and was rewarded with an enthusiastic smile from Arthur. "Great! Could you print out the details and…" Arthur's smile fell for a minute and his brows drew together. "Hmmm. Actually. Could you print it out and put it by Vivi's door?"

Lewis tilted his head.

Arthur shrugged. "Seems like as good an opening as any to start peace negotiations."

 _Finally._ Lewis reached out and ruffled Arthur's already frazzled hair.

"Hey!" Arthur grinned. "Shoo, I've got a dog to wash."

"I could wash myself, you know," Mystery grumbled from behind him.

"Yeah, but you never do. Pampered pooch."

Lewis backed away from the door before he could ruin the moment with his laughter. He felt lighter as Arthur shut the door. There was a case to work with. Arthur aimed to talk to Vivi soon. The good times weren't all over. There was still something to work with and work toward.

Still, he couldn't help wishing he could speak directly to his friends. It was ridiculous how much he missed even simple exchanges. He'd trade any part of the ghostly state for the chance to talk with them about how the day had gone…

Maybe he'd been too quick to turn down Mothman's help. Arthur and Vivi hadn't shown any signs of putting their heads together to help him figure out his issues yet, and he was tired of sitting on his hands. He had networked his own connection with someone who seemed pretty knowledgeable—or at least, knew who to go to for good information. Maybe he could figure out a way to decrease the risk of getting an in-person assessment from Mothman.

He drifted back toward the office. He hadn't applied any paint to the walls yet, so if there was a time to shoot off a quick message, now would be best. He closed the door behind him and had the Deadbeats boot up the laptop and log in.

* * *

**Mod Skull: Hey, you around?**

**Mothman: Lucky! Just got back. Thought any more about letting me in on your ghost issue?**

**Mod Skull:** _*is typing*_

**Mod Skull:** _*is typing*_

**Mod Skull:** _*is typing*_

**Mothman: Fine. I can take a hint.**

**Mod Skull: No, wait**

**Mod Skull: It's just… we need to know more about you. Can you give us any credentials? Any history? Anything to the effect of a track record of your dealings with ghosts?**

**Mothman: I don't have any track record with ghosts. Wish I did. Like I said, it's out of my field since I'm usually working the alien angle. Cross-training would be nice.**

**Mothman: Why do you need my info?**

**Mod Skull: It's kind of important to the team that this ghost doesn't get exorcised by over-enthusiastic ghost hunters.**

**Mothman: Ohhhhh. Yeah. Okay this is making more sense now.**

**Mothman: Look, to be honest, if I tell you who I am, I'm worried you won't take me seriously. For several reasons.**

**Mod Skull: Can't move forward if you can't give us anything at all. Besides, we'd learn a lot of that stuff once we met you, right?**

**Mothman: Yeah. I guess.**

**Mod Skull: Have new details about the ghost, by the way. Those spectral distortions he generates have long term effects and tend to rot the room over time.**

**Mothman: No kidding? How bad?**

**Mod Skull: Stains, mold, and paint peeling so far. I'm doing home repairs today.**

**Mothman: ….**

**Mothman: Wait is this ghost haunting your HOUSE?**

Lewis flinched.

**Mothman: Listen, if you don't want to kick it out, I won't kick it out. Your house, your case, your rules. But I'm dying to talk the trade with someone who'll teach me more and I've not been to ONE SINGLE LEGITIMATE haunted house so PLEASE.**

**Mothman: I am begging you.**

**Mod Skull: Thought you were part of an organization? They don't teach you? Don't train you on the job?**

**Mothman: They barely tolerate me. Too many blurry photos and missed opportunities.**

**Mod Skull: Oh. Is that why you think we won't want to meet?**

**Mothman: Partly my reputation. Partly because I'm twelve.**

"What?" Lewis shouted. The Deadbeat at the keyboard cheerfully typed away.

**Mod Skull: WHAT?!**

**Mothman: But I'm serious about all this! You have no idea how much I've done in my own field of research. I just have the worst luck about proving it.**

**Mothman: Please don't brush me off.**

**Mothman: I'm not just some kid, you know.**

**Mod Skull: Sorry, didn't mean to type that. I was just surprised. I mean, I definitely thought I was talking to an adult.**

**Mothman: I'll take that as a compliment.**

**Mod Skull: Even if you are as serious as you say, you're still twelve, and the issues in this case are way beyond you to solve.**

**Mothman: But I can learn from it! And if I can take some firsthand notes back to my organization. Some of the other members might have better suggestions for you based on my notes. Please!**

Lewis wished he hadn't started this conversation. This was a mistake. The most informed contact he had from the blog was _twelve?_

**Mod Skull: Do your parents know?**

**Mothman: If I can swing a visit to some science type museum near you then I can call it extra credit research for Skool and my Dad will be happy to let me go.**

**Mod Skull: Let you go? Are you saying you'd come alone?**

**Mothman: I can handle myself.**

**Mod Skull: Unacceptable. We can't be responsible for you or for something happening to you.**

**Mothman:** _*is typing*_

**Mothman:** _*is typing*_

**Mothman:** _*is typing*_

**Mothman: Okay. So. What about this. A while back you said this ghost has his own anchor, so he's not tied to your house, right?**

**Mod Skull: Right...**

**Mothman: So can you guys bring the ghost to me?**

Lewis bit back the immediate response, "Of course not!" and leaned against the wall, considering all the very good reasons why he should say just that.

He would be too vulnerable out there. He hadn't even run this by the rest of the group. He wouldn't be on his own turf. He could be walking straight into a trap. Mothman might not really be who he said he was. He might actually be an adult, even a professional ghost hunter who was intentionally baiting Lewis out. But if he really was a kid, what if Lewis injured him in the course of the research?

**Mod Skull: There's a lot of reasons why this is a terrible idea.**

**Mothman: Why?**

He couldn't just tell this kid that he was the ghost they were talking about and that he was scared of all the things that could go wrong, right? Of course not. There had to be another way out of this conversation.

**Mod Skull: Maybe terrible is too strong a word. I'll talk to the team. But I don't think they'll go for it.**

**Mothman: Then let me talk to them. I can convince them!**

Lewis waved at the Deadbeats, who shut the laptop. He couldn't just up and leave. That was ridiculous.

He stared at the new, excessively detailed crayon-drawings of dismembered people now chasing each other across the walls. Occasionally one would rip some painter's tape off the baseboard and use it to pin down another crayon-drawn person, then pull off their limbs like wings off a fly. The floor sprouted rusty nails, point side up. The ceiling laughed at him like a demented clown and licked the mold spots with a forked tongue. Considering how much Lewis had dictated, the effect was pretty mild today.

Was meeting Mothman any more ridiculous than continuing like this for the rest of his existence? Or even another two months?

He would run the idea by Arthur. See what he thought. At worst, nothing happened. At best, it would remind Arthur and Vivi how badly he wanted his voice back.

The front door opened and shut again. A surge of longing drove him across the room. Vivi was back! He'd bring the idea to her. She would be gung-ho for an adventure. Maybe a road trip with the three of them to wherever this Mothman was. Why had he thought it was crazy? Hours of music and joking and laughter as miles of blacktop peeled away under the wheels. Lewis grabbed the doorknob…

 _No._ He forced himself to release it. That image didn't exist anymore, and it wouldn't. It couldn't. He'd be lucky if Vivi spoke civilly to him every third Thursday, and Arthur might laugh from time to time but he still flinched if Lewis moved too quickly or came up behind too quietly. And it wasn't the three of them. Mystery was no happy-go-lucky pet to be dragged off on a moment's notice. All their ease and camaraderie had died that night in the cave. Maybe it had already been dead and he hadn't caught on yet. A dark current of anger caught him off guard. _Arthur, why was there even an opening for that thing to take you…_

The drawings on the wall started shrieking in a gaspy, breathless manner. Like someone with a punctured lung. The sound ravaged Lewis. He phased through the door, stumbling out into the hall.

"...gonna talk about this printout? It just showed up in front of my room." Vivi's voice floated around the corner. Lewis pressed up against the wall, listening as Arthur responded.

"Looks like a standard case. Property-based curse, by the looks of it. Not a lot of pay, but a good way to get our feet wet in the business again."

"Standard my lemony-fresh bird feeder."

"Ass, Vivi. Just... just say 'ass.'"

"Shove it down your cotton picker. Anyway, this isn't a standard case, it's a weird one, and you've nixed weird cases just like this for months. Why so eager?"

"Call it a peace offering," Arthur said wearily. "I shouldn't have stormed out on you."

Vivi was silent.

"And. I shouldn't have said those things the way I said them. There's… there's truth to what I said, but the way I said it was kind of... stabby."

Still nothing.

Arthur sighed. "What do you want from me, Vee?"

"I want you to tell me what happened in the back of the semi-truck. As a start."

If Lewis still had breath he would have held it.

A chair scraped on the floor. Arthur's voice had dropped a lot lower. "Vee. I don't want to. I want—"

"You want me to trust that thing we've invited to stay in the house, but every time I try to get at the truth you shut me out. Clearly something terrible happened, or you wouldn't be keeping it from me to try and make this work. Yet I'm supposed to just let it all go? Sleep with it nearby and trust I'll both wake up intact and won't find your remains stacked outside my door?"

 _That thing. It._ Lewis' locket ached along every crack. It thumped dully against his funeral suit and his hand crept up to cradle it.

"He's my best friend."

A second chair scraped. "That doesn't excuse whatever happened. And I'm your friend too, Artie. Your friend who hasn't threatened your life even once. I want to know."

"I just… I need you to give him a chance." His voice shook. "If I tell you, Vee, please. If you remembered him, you'd still be mad at him but I know you would have at least given him another chance. Now you don't remember him at all and you think he was always… murdery. He wasn't. He was kind, and he looked at you like you were the world, and he laughed with me when I had too much caffeine and stayed up late watching me mess with new projects and… please. Just one chance. I spent so long trying to find him."

"Then you need to start by levelling with me. I mean it. And you can't tell me how to react, Artie. I need information precisely because I don't know what I'm dealing with."

Lewis turned and fled, phasing straight through two walls into the back yard. It was over. Bad enough Vivi had caught him trying to kill Arthur the first time, but once Arthur told her what had happened in the back of the truck… no. There would be ward charms all over the house. She'd cast him out on sight. Maybe even sic Mystery on him.

And he deserved it.

The day had dimmed to dusk. Birds sang the day's final melodies and a squirrel sat back on its hind legs, assessing the threat level Lewis presented. Lewis sank to a sitting position, knees drawn up to his chest, and rested his skull against his knees.

The memory Arthur's face, full of horror, filled his thoughts. The weight of him, gripped effortlessly by one hand. The shift in his face, from horror to bewilderment as he fell from Lewis' grasp.

_I dropped him. I tried to kill him again. I would have succeeded that time, and we both know it._

At that moment, on the cliff's edge, he had still been torn. He wasn't changing his mind fast enough. Arthur's uncle Lance had shown up with a double-barreled shotgun and blasted Lewis' anchor at just that moment, shocking Lewis so badly that the memory plane vanished. If not for Lance, Arthur would have died. That's the story Arthur was probably telling Vivi right now, and it was true.

A sliver of heat lined the hollow ache in Lewis' locket. _It wasn't my fault. How was I supposed to know Arthur got possessed? Why didn't Arthur said anything to us about how he was feeling before we went into that gods-forsaken cave? Why didn't Vivi take the sign outside the cave seriously instead of egging us onward? Why…_

He folded in on himself even tighter. It didn't matter. Nothing he did now would change the damage done in ignorant rage, just like nothing would change the fact that he was dead. Maybe he should just pass on, like he was supposed to. That would solve the house issues.

Carefully, he tested the notion. As soon as the thought clarified in his mind, there was resistance at all the edges of his form. There were bonds that still tied him here.

So. He couldn't pass on. He could leave, though. Withdraw to some forsaken building in another part of the country and hide there. No haunting. Haunting a place might draw Arthur's attention again.

Lewis gave a low groan. If he disappeared, he just knew that Arthur would hop in the van and start combing the country again, Vivi's approval be damned.

He had to find a way to pass on. If he could, then Arthur could finally rest and Vivi could relax. Everyone would be happy, eventually.

" _I do not think Arthur would be well rested if you disappear."_

The thought passed into him like an electrical current, rising from the ground and spreading through his form. His skull jerked up and he scanned the yard. "Who's there?" he demanded. Instantly he regretted the lapse. He scanned the yard for distortions, but there were only a soft chorus of groans from the grass around him.

 _Not too bad._ They hadn't tested the effect of his speech outdoors. Vivi hadn't bothered to ask, and Lewis hadn't wanted to find out without backup. He'd have to be more careful. There was no telling the range his issues had or what kind of havoc they might wreak on the wildlife.

Someone had definitely spoken to him. Had it been audible? Unclear. He peered around the yard. The only other creature in sight was the squirrel, who had returned to its search for nuts among the tangled roots of the huge tree in their backyard.

And then half a dozen sorrowful thoughts jolted him.

" _Alone."_

" _Hearing, hearing, never heard."_

" _You carry dark intent."_

" _A felled hickory, I knew him well."_

" _Felled human, do you hear?"_

" _Speak with me. Stay a while."_

" _You are flame! Stay back!"_

Lewis scrambled backward. Silence fell in his mind, and his own thoughts slowly reassembled. He lifted his head and scanned the trunk of the great tree that Arthur claimed was more than just a tree. There, close to the roots, a greenish-yellow glow the size of his fist pulsed. As he watched, it traced its way up, then down, then up again.

Carefully, he scooted closer.

" _The roots. The roots of the felled hickory. Felled human, you speak through the roots of the hickory who was. You speak like one of us."_ This time, the thought came laden with a sorrow larger than a forest. Lewis sagged under the weight of it, doubled over on hands and knees. This was Yettle?

" _Do not use my name lightly. I did not give it to you."_

This was Yettle. The thought rocked him back to a sitting position. He was talking with a dryad. To Arthur's special guardian. She had to be at least a hundred years old. Maybe she would know what to do.

" _What not to do is disappear like a cub stolen from its den. The mother would be frantic. Searching. No less done for you."_

Lewis settled himself more firmly on the ground, crossing his legs. He closed his eyes, composing his vague impressions into carefully worded thoughts.

_I'm what's left of a human. I shouldn't be here._

_"But you are."_

_If I tried hard enough, that could change._

_"But should it?"_

_It would make things easier for Arthur and Vivi._

_"You have not been cast out of a pack, yet you seek to cast yourself out."_

_Easier to cast myself out than wait for Vivi to do it._

_"May happen. May not happen. It cannot be known. What can be known is that vanishing causes more harm."_

Abruptly, frustration welled up sharp and hot within him. _I have lost them already! What we have is not anything like what we had. It was good! It was warm! It was beautiful! And now it's gone. Vivi won't even talk to me unless it's to threaten, and even if she wanted to, I can't speak to her!_

_"Please no flames no please keep fire away stay small do not spread."_

Her words ran end to end and quivered. He opened his eyes and saw a circle of grass crisped to ash around him. A few embers spit and glowed briefly before vanishing. Shame quelled his anger. _I'm so sorry. Even I am different now and I do not understand it._

The connection ran silent and wary for a few minutes. At the edge of the yard, a cricket sang its two note melody.

_"You and I draw from the same groundwater, angry little cub."_

Lewis raised a brow, trying to make sense of that thought.

_"My family is gone. My days were good and warm and beautiful. I cannot speak to the felled, and those nearby who still live sleep deeply so they do not have to remember."_

Lewis' skull sank closer to his collar. _Alone. Surrounded by memories of the past. Who wouldn't sleep?_

Warmth accompanied the next thoughts. _"I wouldn't. I will stay awake. I have new family. A pack has claimed me, and as long as they remain, how can I sleep? Everything has changed, and that is both leaping flames and quenching water."_

Lewis shook his head. _You know some peace._ _I am still…_ he reached for examples from her speech. _I am still surrounded by felled and sleeping trees._

It was dark, now. The garage light was not on, so Arthur was likely still in conversation with Vivi. Lewis stood. _Maybe if I was less of a threat. Maybe if I got myself under control, or if I could speak out loud to them without nightmares coming alive. Maybe if I could say the words 'I'm sorry.'_

_"Maybe you need to understand the rot inside before you can remove it."_

A flicker of uneasiness. _What does that mean?_

_"There is rot inside you, felled human. I feel it eating away at you, but I do not understand it. There was rot inside of Arthur, but when he found me the third time, it had already left him."_

_That almost makes sense, but not enough._ Lewis placed a hand over his middle and bowed. _It is an honor… no. It is a privilege to trade thoughts with you. But I need to find someone who might be able to help me._ He straightened. He could already feel the Deadbeats opening the laptop inside the house, preparing it for him.

_"You will seek treatment from a person whose face you do not even know?"_

_Yes._

_"You will be unprotected. If you are hunted, there is nothing I can do."_

Surprised, Lewis peered at her. _Do you protect us?_

_"There has been no need. Yet."_

_Still, I have to try. I will make sure Arthur is not a worried mother wolf before I go._

_"Be wary of traps, little cub."_

* * *

**Mod Skull: I talked it over with the team. Unfortunately we just got a good case and we can't leave right now. But you're right, the ghost can travel, and he's really hoping to get help. He doesn't want to wait so he's willing to travel himself to meet with you.**

**Mothman: No way!**

**Mothman: I won't let you down! Or him!**

**Mothman: Okay, give me a couple minutes. I'll find an abandoned building.**

**Mothman: You guys are in Tempo, right? That's a ways out from me, but I don't know how fast the ghost can move.**

**Mothman: Do ghosts teleport?**

**Mothman: Can he turn invisible, or are there going to be reports of sightings all along his route?**

**Mothman: I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS don't go away, I'm finding an address.**

**Mothman: You have no idea how much this means to me.**

**Mod Skull: Starting to get that idea.**

**Mothman: Okay here's a good location. It's an abandoned toy factory at the edge of the city...**


End file.
